Clamshell Phones

This is the post I’ve been threatening to write for over a week, but I don’t think my humour about it has diminished in that time.

I’ve had a mobile phone now for over 12 years. My first acquisition of one was prompted by my mother having a stroke, and I was uncontactable for about 4 hours.

Vowing never to be in that situation again, I got a mobile phone for emergencies. To be honest, that’s what it still is to me – for emergencies.

I avoid “text conversations” – you know the ones, someone sends you a text message that is basically a question, soliciting a response from you. Then another question comes your way, etc etc

I prefer to have a short conversation with the person, rather than a flurry of button pressing, but each to their own.

Anyway, my phones have always been of the one piece, bar type. I don’t always have the latest gizmos, but then that has never bothered me. If the phone is reliable and works when I want it to, I’m a happy camper.

I’ve always avoided clamshell (bendy) phones. To me they just look like potential trouble.

I’ve also managed to avoid phone calls in places which strike me as inappropriate. Some people are inconsiderate as to when they use their phone, and seem to be ignorant of their surroundings and other people nearby. These type of people irritate me.

To the incident from last week – stick with me, it’s worth it, I think.

I was visiting the toilet in our building and upon entering noticed a man at the far urinal.

Adopting accepted toilet etiquette I took my place at the urinal farthest away from him.

It became apparent that he was on the phone, I didn’t see that when I first entered, partly because it was held out of my line of sight, and partly because etiquette also says that you don’t stare at gentlemen in toilets (unless you’re George Michael of course).

From the conversation he was having, it appeared that someone was waiting for him in reception. Why he felt the need to converse with them while urinating I don’t know. I would have merely made my apologies once I’d met up with them.

Anyway, he finishes his conversation, loudly of course, and with a (probable, because I didn’t actually witness it) flourish snaps his phone shut.

The snap was very audible from my position, as was his muffled scream and curse.

It would appear that he snapped his mobile shut on his penis.

I stifled laughter, as while I washed my hands he was wiping his phone with a paper towel, muttering under his breath.

I am doubly grateful for not being a moron, and not possessing a clamshell mobile phone.

I am left wondering how long his phone smelt of urine and/or “pineapple” disinfectant urinal cake for….